If Walls Could Talk
by Rianna Potter
Summary: Just before each Quidditch lesson with Ginny, Neville sits on one side of a stone wall, with Ginny unknowingly on the other. One shot.


**Author's Notes:** This one's for Cyndi, because it's her birthday, she's awesome, and I owe her a Neville/Ginny fic.

* * *

**If Walls Could Talk**

Ginny Weasley slid down against the rigid stone wall on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, book bag slung over one shoulder, broomstick over the other. It was a groggy day, much like the mornings when the dew would glisten and the fog would gray the distance, when Ginny felt calm, much calmer than she had lately.

The pressure of the approaching O.W.L.s was weighing her down, and no matter how much anyone tried to reassure her, the stress kept piling. Quidditch practices and games, homework, and her social life also contributed to the pressure, and nothing could relieve it, except one person in particular: Neville Longbottom.

* * *

Neville dropped down onto the ground and leaned against the wall by the forest, unknowingly with Ginny Weasley on the very opposite side. He carried a book bag filled with readings about plants and other related subjects, and one book about Quidditch strategies.

He pulled out the Quidditch book, entitled _Beating the Bludgers – A Study of Defensive Strategies in Quidditch_ by Kennilworthy Whisp. Neville turned the pages slowly, careful not to tear any, as the book had been loaned to him by Ginny, who was helping him to get better at Quidditch. He soon found himself gazing absentmindedly at each page, not taking in one bit of the information, and occasionally his gaze would flicker to movement nearby.

"What is the point of learning to play Quidditch?" he abruptly asked himself; if it was at all possibly to abruptly do so. The little voice in the back of his mind, which sounded frighteningly similar to the misty voice of Luna Lovegood, countered his thoughts. _It's self defense… your social defense… like Muggle karate._

"But I'm not fight anyone… am I?" he responded. _Not just Quidditch, Neville… in life. Your friends, your family…_

"What family?" he snorted, unaware that if someone had wandered by that very moment they would have accused him of putting an insanity curse on himself and shipped off to St. Mungo's. _You sound like Harry Potter_, the voice answered.

"I really don't want to know if that's a good thing or not." And with that, he snapped the book shut, no longer taking extra precautions, put it in his bag, and replaced it with a Herbology book.

* * *

"Teaching a boy to play Quidditch has absolutely nothing to do with anything beyond friendship," Ginny told herself, not as calm as before. _You sound like Ron, going on like that about –_ the voice coughed – _platonic feelings_.

"Bug off, Harry. I don't need your _assistance_ at this moment," she replied scornfully, mentally shoving Harry out of the way. "You're lucky you're not really there, or else you'd be bruised up quite often." She waited for the voice to respond, but when it didn't, she pulled out her notebook and doodled absentmindedly.

And as Ginny's doodling progressed while her thoughts were elsewhere, it showed two people, happily going places and being together. When Ginny's thoughts snapped back to reality, she looked down at her notebook and gave it a funny look, as if it had drawn itself on its own.

"What're you looking at?" a small child, about the age of eight, shouted from the drawing to Ginny. She pulled the notebook closer to get a better look, and then dropped it when she saw who was in it.

* * *

Neville paced in circles on the Quidditch field, waiting for Ginny to arrive for their tutoring session. He looked up at the sky as he walked around, occasionally tripping over a rock or a lump in the grass, then regaining his balance. As he stood up and cleaned himself off for the third time, Ginny appeared on the side of the field, broom over one shoulder and book bag over the other. Neville's heart started to beat irregularly as she came closer, and then his mind froze for several seconds.

"Neville! Are you ready?" Ginny called fifteen feet away. When he didn't respond, she called his name again, and he snapped out of his trance. "Are you alright? Did you hear me?"

"Huh… what?" he asked, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. "Oh, yeah, I'm ready."

"Right," she said, bending down to get another strategy book out of her bag, "so, have you practiced la-"

Along with the book, she had pulled out her notebook, and let out a small gasp of embarrassment as it slipped from her hands. Luckily, her reflexes kicked in and she caught it before Neville had a chance to view its contents.

"What was that?"

_If walls could talk_, she thought, her face growing red,_ I'd punch them for knowing too much_.


End file.
